Connectedness
This post is as much about feeling as it is about thinking. A strange thing happened to me yesterday. I started thinking about the first babysitter I ever knew. She took care of me during very early childhood, probably for a couple of years total. I called her Mama Pardo. I remember her as always being happy, funny, loving, and nurturing. Her husband was a good man, but I remember him being a loud "Man's man". I believe he was a blue-collar worker at a refinery or something. Although she only kept me for a couple of years, I was always fond of her and visited her and Papa Pardo a few times throughout my school years and for the last time while on leave from the Navy. That last visit was about 28 years ago. We moved away from her neighborhood when I was two or three years old, then my parents divorced when I was four. By the time I was nine, my mom and I had moved to Houston, over 250 miles away, so the only opportunity I would have to see Mama Pardo would be when